


Francis' Adventures in NannyLand - Part One

by redbottoms



Series: Francis' Adventures in Nannyland [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Clothing Kink, F/M, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Paddling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbottoms/pseuds/redbottoms
Summary: This is a multichapter pilot fic portraying an ageplay spanking roleplaying relationship between Francis and his Nanny (Aziraphale and Crowley). More short stories with the same theme will be released in different parts, so stay tuned if this your thing.In this part, Francis dirties up the kitchen, recieves a hard hairbrush spanking, and struggles with acting his assigned age.This all takes place after the events in the show have ended, and Azi and Crowley are having a bit of fun in their home together. And also, I like to think that Francis leaves the fake teeth in their storage case haha. Or perhaps he planted them in the garden somewhere. Or better yet, he uses them to scare the hell outta Nanny when she's not expecting it by leaving them in her drink or sitting upon her pillow. *jots that last bit down* yeah that'll make good spanking fodder for another story later on... ;)With that said, please feel free to subscribe to this account (redbottoms) as I plan on writing and posting an entire series of these ageplay adventure fics for you all to enjoy! Thank you for reading
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Series: Francis' Adventures in Nannyland [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684879
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. He's Done It Again

Francis strode into the house from his favorite place, the garden. His cheeks were flushed with youthful exuberance. He was wearing boyish shorts in a beige color and short-sleeved button up shirt in white. The bottom of it was tucked into the shorts in a way that hinted that a great effort toward meticulousness was made. He tromped over to the sink to wash the soil from his hands.

“You, young man, have just earned yourself a meeting with the hairbrush!”

His eyes snapped up to look at Nanny Ashtoreth – _his_ Nanny – with a bewildered expression. “But – “

“No buts, Francis. How many times must I tell you not to track dirt from the garden into the kitchen? I just mopped that floor this very morning and now not only is it going to be mopped again – this time by you – but you are also going to be placed over my knee for a good, hard spanking!”

With a look of regret, Francis swiveled his head and gazed down at the floor. Indeed, a long line of thick, dark, mud-encrusted footprints trailed from the entry door to exactly where he stood. Silently cursing himself, he realized now it had been the second time this week that he had forgotten to wipe his muddy feet on the outdoor mat before making his way inside. He turned his gaze back to Nanny. She was understandably upset. The problem was that ever since he had taken on his role as a seventeen-year-old version of himself for their play sessions, Francis had a terribly awful time remembering to do things right. It was as if he really were a child again in need of constant supervision and…

“Do you _hear me_? This is not the time to be daydreaming!” Nanny’s heeled boots clicked loudly upon the kitchen floor as she strode over and seized the menacing implement from its nail upon the kitchen wall. She kept it there as a constant reminder to not misbehave, though that seemed to do little good. Francis’ bottom had meetings with the hairbrush quite frequently. And her gloved palm, and her birch rod, and her cane… Francis’ bottom began to tingle.

“Yes, Nanny. I’m sorry I had made a mess again. But – ”

“But, _what_?” Nanny interjected with furrowed brows, peering at the boy intensely. She knew full well he was attempting to weasel out of his punishment. Again.

“Whaat if I try extra hard next time and only clean up tonight?” His hands involuntarily went to cover his behind while his eyes darted over to the thick wooden brush in Nanny’s hand. “I’ll do it right this instant!”

She paused for effect, her stern gaze continuing to bear down into Francis’ soul.

“I’m afraid not,” she finally replied, jabbing a gloved finger at him. “I _warned_ you that you'd be punished the next time you trampled mud all over the floor, but it seems you did little to heed said warning.” She set her hands upon her hips. “And now you will receive extra for trying to get out of it again.”

“Not the hairbrush! Please, only the hand this time. I promise I’ll clean up the mess!” Francis begged, trying his luck again.

Nanny was not amused by this request and grasped him by his wrist, quickly guiding him over to the dinner table, hairbrush in tow. He scrambled along, his feet slipping and leaving more muddy footprints. Nanny looked at them and laughed. “More for you to clean up later, Francis. Naughty boy.” She pulled out a chair, seated herself upon it, and wasting no time, pulled him unceremoniously over her lap.

Francis blushed as he found his plump bottom suddenly overturned and thrust into the air, on full display and vulnerable to attack. It was still protected by taut layers of shorts and underwear, but he knew it wouldn’t remain that way for long. He gulped.

“Perhaps this will make you at last remember to wipe your feet before entering the house! I’m sick and tired of cleaning up after you!”

Nanny raised her arm and the first smack landed smartly upon one upturned cheek. It could’ve hurt more, but Francis knew it wouldn’t be long before it would became unbearable. The second blow soon followed, striking cleanly upon the fullest part of his other chubby cheek. It wobbled from the impact. He craned his head back to speak. “Nannyyy noo, wait! I’ll be good I promise! No more muddy boots, you have my absolute word!!”

“I’m glad to hear that, dear, but you’re not getting out of having your bottom spanked, do you understand? And may I also take a moment to remind you that you’re really in for it this time.” She waved the brush in the air, taunting him. “I’m going to give you a thorough thrashing, young man!”

Francis turned his head away, accepting his fate. He wanted to show her that he wasn’t a child. “Yes, Nanny.” Bracing for the worst, Francis placed his hands flat down upon the linoleum and let his eyes flit over Nanny’s stockinged calf, her leather boots, and then beyond them to the muddy footprints upon the floor. He cursed himself anew.

The spanking carried on briskly. Francis began to whimper and squirm. Nanny resolved the latter by grasping the waistband of his shorts and underwear and yanking upward to keep him in place. The fabric wedged uncomfortably into the cleft of his buttocks, causing him to squeal. “Stop fidgeting!” The hairbrush then crashed down at an even faster tempo than before, and Francis knew it was impossible to keep himself still. His legs kicked up, scattering semi-dried mud from his shoes onto the floor and against Nanny’s dress. A chunk fell down into her cleavage.

Nanny stopped. “Get up, you. I think we’ll need to have you remove some articles before we carry on. Go on, get up, you wicked boy…”

Francis quickened his speed, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he climbed off of his Nanny’s knee. He stood before her trying to rub the sting out of his fat bottom and looking very much like the disobedient boy she claimed he was.

Nanny grimaced and removed the offending clump of dirt from her bosom, bending to shake out the excess. Francis looked on but tried not to concentrate on Nanny’s breasts. He couldn’t imagine the kind of spanking he’d receive if she caught him staring. He turned his eyes to the side.

“You’ll receive extra on top of your other extra for dirtying up my brassiere,” Nanny said firmly, straightening herself out. “Now go and seat yourself upon the stool and remove those mucky shoes, on the double.” She sent him away with a crisp smack with the hairbrush. He yelped and doubled his pace.


	2. Let The Games Begin

Francis frowned and rubbed his bottom while quickly shuffling over to the stool in question. It was the most uncomfortable chair in the entire house, and he knew the only reason it was spared from being turned into firewood was so that it could be used as a punishment chair for him. It had unnaturally long legs that set him very high up off the floor, forcing him to place all of his weight upon his bottom, precisely upon the sit spot that Nanny made sure to concentrate most of her attention on during his punishments. She would often make him sit on the stool after his spankings, sometimes before. Sometimes even during.

In order to heave himself onto the round wooden seat, he had to prop his butt up upon the edge and inch along its unforgiving surface until he was properly stationed. His bottom wasn’t nearly as sore as it was soon going to be, but it still smarted as he climbed onto the devilish stool, settling himself into place with a grimace.

“Oh, I certainly see that you’re feeling that uncomfortably hard seat upon your naughty bottom, Francis,” Nanny stated as she strode over confidently. “But realize you are not out of this yet, child.”

Francis tried not to sneer. He wasn’t a _child_. Only one more year and he would be a _man_. Nanny didn’t seem to take notice, though.

She bent and grabbed a foot. “These dirty things need to come off immediately, followed by these.” She pointed at his summer shorts. All the boys wore them in the warmer months. Perhaps after he turned 18 she wouldn’t make him wear them anymore. That’s what he assumed, at least.

Nanny did all the shopping and the shorts she currently set out for him were embarrassing in how they fit so undeniably _snug_ against his big round behind, not only accentuating it to the point where it became an extremely conspicuous target for both the eye and a flattened palm, but also left Francis feeling as if the most self-conscious part of his body was left utterly on display for all to see.

The fabric of his shorts was infused with a bit of elastic stretch so that it hugged each and every curve of his bottom and thighs, which of course added to the sense of being on display, but one good thing was that it also allowed him ample freedom of movement to do his gardening and other tasks.

Nonetheless, wearing the garment made him feel hyper aware of the presence of his bottom, and especially how it might be commented on or slapped by Nanny at any given moment whenever she felt the impulse overtake her, which was fairly often to tell the truth. With that on top of the spankings, Francis didn’t understand why his poor bottom had to be the object of such a fixed focus. He blushed again. Nanny mustn’t know that he secretly lived for it.

Francis looked at her imploringly. “Not on my bare bottom, please!” He fidgeted in place and a fresh bloom of ache erupted. He immediately stilled himself.

“The longer you take to get those shoes and shorts off, the more painful it’s going to be for you in the end, young man. You’re already getting double. Do you really want a triple spanking?” Francis shook his head. “I didn’t think so, now move!”

Francis complied at once, bringing one leg up and untying the shoe. He dropped it to the ground, and the impact caused much of the dirt to pop off and scatter about the floor. He looked up at Nanny apologetically. When she scowled back down at him, he looked away quickly and grasped at the shoelaces of his other shoe, untying it and taking it off but keeping it in his hand. He slid off the seat with a groan and placed it softly upon the floor. He looked back. “I’m sorry Nanny,” he whispered. He didn’t feel much like the man he was about to be at this moment. Maybe Nanny was right, he wasn’t ready.

Nanny nodded and twirled her finger to indicate her impatience. Francis got to work pulling his shorts off. Luckily, they were much simpler than the shoes – the elastic waistband allowed them to quickly slide them down and off – something that Nanny ensured was always a feature on all of his shorts and pants – and from past experience he knew it was best to fold and place them neatly upon the nearest clean surface out of the way, so he did that as well. He then stood there in his shirt and underpants feeling even more exposed and disobedient than before. His bottom simultaneously ached and buzzed with anticipation.

“Right, so, back where you were,” Nanny instructed, making her way back to the armless dining chair on which the first half of the spanking had taken place. She sat herself down primly and patted her lap. “Up and over, Francis, no dawdling now.” Francis only hesitated for a split second before setting his body into motion, crawling back over her knee. Once adjusted into the proper position, Nanny placed a palm flat upon his lower back and raised the other arm that held the hairbrush.


	3. He Gets What He Deserves...

“Now that I think it’s impossible for you to continue making a mess of the kitchen…. and myself, I believe we can get back to what we were doing, hm?”

Francis bit his lip. “Yes Nanny.”

“Good. Now then, you best keep still. I don’t have time for chasing a bucking bottom!” The brush came down, smacking upon the sorest spot on Francis’ left cheek. He squawked out in pain. Then the merciless wood rapidly slapped down on his right cheek. And back to the left. And then to the right. There wasn’t much time to recover between the blows and the fire built up fast. Soon Francis was crying out and wiggling his bottom to and fro in a futile attempt to escape Nanny’s evil hairbrush. “Oh Nanny – please! It stings so much, pleeeease! Owwww!” he cried out, kicking his legs.

Nanny only smiled and kept on, bringing the brush down upon Francis’ bouncing bottom again and again, only pausing to corral his wayward legs by throwing one of her own over them, locking them into place. She also took this free moment to pull down his underwear, exposing his red ripened cheeks. She grinned down at them. “Well, well, what do we have here? A _very_ naughty red bottom! Whatever could you have done to deserve that?”

She chuckled as Francis blushed and tried to wiggle out of place again. “Nuh uh uh, young man. I have you _just_ where I want you. You’re not going anywhere!” She brought the brush down upon one quivering cheek. “You still have much to learn. Adulthood will remain an unattainable asset if you continue to disobey like this, Francis. Misbehaving little boys like you get their bare bottoms spanked!” The brush thundered down upon the other cheek.

“Owww! Nanny _please_ , no more! I promise to behave!!!” Francis tried to kick but couldn’t. He tried to wiggle his bottom out of the way of the relentless slaps, but could nary move an inch. He was absolutely stuck and had to endure what was coming to him. He tried to imagine what his behind looked like and decided perhaps it was better not to. A few blows later and his throat suddenly felt tight. He told himself he would not cry. Not this time. He wouldn’t. He was 17, for Pete’s sake. He _mustn’t cry_. But Nanny’s hard hairbrush spankings almost always had a way of coaxing out the tears.

The longer the brush continued to crash against his bouncing bottom, the closer Francis was to bawling. He knew Nanny was purposely waiting for the moment too, just to cause him further embarrassment and give her another reason as to why he has to remain her little boy forever. He had been allowed to be 17 for the past three months – so damned _painfully_ close to adulthood – with a weeklong regression back to 13 during which he received even more supervision, complete with many spankings, scolding, and meetings with the stool – and then back to 17 again but it looks like he may be in danger of another change in the direction away from adulthood if he kept up this misbehavior. He tried even harder to keep himself from weeping.

One particularly hard slap to the area where his thighs met his buttocks did him in. The tears came sprouting forth and poor Francis began to blubber and beg while bawling over Nanny’s knee, his plump bottom being thoroughly chastised like the naughty little boy that he was destined to be.

“Tsk, tsk, Francis. Look at the state you’re in. At this rate you’re never going to make it to 18. I would say right now you look more like…” Nanny stopped spanking and laid her palm upon one of Francis’ cheeks. It was burning hot. “Hmmm.. I’d wager to say more like ….” Francis waited in suspense. He wanted to be 18 so badly but now that he had misbehaved _again_ it seemed forever out of reach. “Twelve. Or even younger, like ten. Yes. A very disobedient little boy having his bottom spanked by his Nanny for trudging into the kitchen with his little shoes coated in mud. Not a care in the world! An adult would surely to wipe his or her feet before entering, would they not?”

Francis hung his head, slowing tears rolling off his cheeks and onto the floor. “Yes, Nanny. They would know better.”

“That’s right, Francis. So with that in mind, I think for the next six weeks you shall be regressed back to the age of ten. I’m sorry but it’s for your own good. I’ll collect your new outfit after we’re done here.”

The only good thing about being a young boy again, Francis surmised, was that he could cry without feeling too badly about it. The tears came afresh, uninhibited by seemingly reachable ambitions of adulthood. “But Nannyyy!! I don’t wanna wear those _silly little boy_ shorts!”

“No whining, Francis. Now stick your bottom up, I’m going to give you ten more and then it’s off to the stool with you. While you sit upon your sore bottom you will write lines and watch as your poor Nanny has to slave away cleaning up the mess you made. And afterward you will wear the shorts I give you. No questions.”

Francis pouted. And seemingly could only focus on one thing at a time, forgetting about his to-be outfit for the time being. “But I thought _I_ was gonna clean it?!” Francis asked in a similar tone, not taking heed of Nanny’s order to rein it in.

“No – you’re much too young to be trusted with it, I’m sorry dear, but this is the way it has to be.”

Francis, not happy with this decision, even though it meant less work for him in the long run, started to have a tantrum, well as much as he could anyway with his legs locked into place. He bopped his fists off of Nanny’s leg and the chair. “I WAS GONNA DO ITTT!”

“Francis!” Nanny called out sternly. “Stop that this instant. Do you want your spanking to start all over again from the beginning?”

Francis stopped immediately and hung his head. He didn’t know what bluffing was. Adults always said what they really meant. “No…….” he pouted.

“Right, well we’ll be done here in just a few moments and you can then pop over to the stool to begin your lines. Now, arch that bum of yours upward, I’m going to give you something to _really_ cry about.”

“Na – “ Francis started, but the loud crack of the brush smacking against his throbbing bottom prevented him from finishing. “Owwww!” Another hard crack on the other side. Francis stiffened. Suddenly this spanking hurt way more than it ever had. He didn’t know why but suspected it had something to do with his newfound age. “OW! It hurrrrrts!!” he cried out, blinking away more tears.

“Good! Someone needs to show you the way toward being a well-behaved young man. You are a challenge, Francis, but I think there may be hope for you yet!” Another smack followed by a howl of complaint. “Such a naughty boy, listen to you carry on. I almost want to say that you are acting as if you’re five instead of ten.” Another hard slap sounded out.

“Owww noooo I’m ten I promise!!”

“Are you _suure_?” Nanny inquired with an unseen smirk. “I don’t recall seeing many ten-year-olds having absolute tantrums and speaking to those in charge like a whiny little brat!” Another smack.

“Yea I’m suuuure and they cannnnnn! I’ve seen it! I’ve seen even older do it!”

“Is that so?” The brush slapped down again. Francis wailed. They were nearing the end.

“I once saw a,” Francis said between breathless sobs, “a boy who looked…” a pause to sniff, “at least fifteen crying like a baby when his daddy was giving him a belt thrashing…” another pause, “out by the wheat field….” Another sob. Nanny waited patiently for him to finish. “Last week.”

“Is that so, well, perhaps that boy needs his daddy to dress _him_ up in _silly shorts_ and spank his bottom each and every day to teach him that fifteen-year-olds don’t act that way! And you’re lucky I don’t do the same to you for your comment earlier but you will find yourself back over my knee soon enough, child.” The last few brush smacks fell upon Francis’ swollen and throbbing cheeks as Nanny chided. She was almost drowned out by his crying and howling. At last she stopped and placed the brush on a nearby table with a notable clunk.


	4. The END Result

“Now then. Get up and dry your eyes. I’m going to retrieve some lined paper and a fresh pair of little shorts for you to wear that are more befitting of your current status.”

Francis sighed internally. Those were what that the _really_ little boys wore. He wished he hadn’t complained about it earlier. If he hadn’t put it into Nanny’s mind she might have forgotten and continued to let him wear his other shorts. He wanted to balk but knew enough to keep quiet this time as he climbed all the way down off of his Nanny’s lap, taking his time because he didn’t want to slip. Once both feet were firmly planted on the ground, he bent and pulled his underwear up. The elastic stung miserably when passing over his immensely sore behind. He rubbed at it briskly. He was undoubtably going to feel this hairbrushing for a while.

He made his way over to the stool and slowly clambered onto it. His bottom ached so badly and sitting upon the dreadful hard stool was not fun in the slightest. He fidgeted and tried to find a more comfortable position. There was none as Nanny had distributed her strikes so well as to not leave any part of his plump behind and chubby upper thighs unspanked. He at last settled into place and waited for Nanny to return. He dearly wished he could at least rub his bottom but it was entirely squashed against the hard wooden seat. He tried to fight back a fresh wave of sobbing.

By the time Nanny came back, Francis was seated with a few tears rolling down his face, rocking his hips slightly in a vain attempt to lessen the discomfort.

“Good, I see you didn’t have to be reminded to get up on the stool. I’m glad for that.” She approached and placed two sheets of paper and a neatly folded parcel of clothing upon the table in front of him. He looked at them, especially eyeing the latter suspiciously.

I’m going to clean up your mess and while I do, you are to write ‘I will not enter the house with muddy shoes or else I will be spanked’ – see, I wrote one up top for you to begin with – you are to fill both of these pages with that sentence and as soon as you’re done you can get off the stool. Mind you I will be checking your lines for errors, so I would not rush through if I were you.” She placed a pen next to the pages. “If you do make a mistake, cross out the entire line and start over underneath it.”

Francis groaned internally but nodded and set himself to work. He wanted off of that blasted stool. Nanny turned away and began to sweep and mop the kitchen. She was so efficient that it didn’t take her much time at all. Francis began to wonder why she had made such a fuss over it in the first place, but decided that now was not a good time to ask. He instead focused on his lines, holding the pen a little too hard, roughly scratching out sentence after sentence after sentence as his bottom blazed and ached beneath him. Oh how he wished he could rub it, even though he knew it would do little good. He had been thoroughly chastised. It was going to hurt to sit anywhere for a least a couple of days. He regretted being a naughty little boy.

Right as Nanny was putting away the cleaning equipment, Francis finished his last line. “Nanny, I’m done!” he called out nearly in joy at the prospect of taking his weight off of his sore behind. Then his eyes flitted back to the clothing. “Do I _have_ to wear those shorts? They’re alwaaays so tight on my bum and press against it from above.”

He was, of course, referring to the suspender straps, and how they kept the shorts pulled taut against his bottom. Nanny made sure they were kept very taut indeed.

“Yes Francis, you must wear them. I told you I would be hearing no questions on the matter. Now, get down off of that stool and go into the bathroom. I drew you a warm bath. It will help ease your discomfort,” Nanny said, smiling, “but, only a little,” she added, the smile growing wider for a moment before disappearing all together. “Here,” she handed him the clothing. There was also a fresh shirt and pair of underwear folded and stacked neatly with the shorts. “Be sure to report back to me afterward so I can ensure you’ve dressed yourself properly.”

“Okay,” was all Francis could say as he slowly walked into the bathroom. Indeed, a bath had been drawn for him, bubbles and all. He liked bubble baths. His spirits rose slightly while he undressed and drew himself down into the warm water. He noted that it was almost too warm. When it hit his bottom a fresh flare of burning erupted and made him squeal. This was only the beginning, however. The real challenge was that he again was forced to seat himself down upon something very hard with his very red and very sore behind. He winced as he eased himself down onto the unforgiving porcelain surface. Bubbles or not, this bath ended up being entirely unpleasant. 

Nanny called from outside the door a moment later. “How are you doing in there, do you need help getting washed?”

Francis was about to say no but then he realized he couldn’t locate the soap. He looked all around but didn’t see it. He felt like such a helpless child, unable to find a simple bar of soap. He called back, saying he can’t see the soap. Nanny entered the bathroom with the bar in hand. “Good boy. I was just making sure you weren’t going to only pretend to wash yourself. That would‘ve been a very bad thing to do indeed, hm? You can never trick your Nanny! Here, now wash up and get dressed. I’ll be out in the parlor.”

Francis entered the parlor about 30 minutes later. Nanny looked up at him and closed her book. “Well, well, I didn’t realize a bath would take that long, Francis! What kept you?”

Francis blushed. “I couldn’t get the clothes on right.”

Nanny stood up and came over to investigate. She saw that one of the shoulder straps was much too loose, causing the entire outfit to appear lopsided. “Silly boy, come here. Now hold still, I’ll fix it for you.” She yanked the strap up so that the seat of Francis’ pants were suddenly pulled very firmly across his bottom, causing him to yelp. “Now, now, don’t fuss,” Nanny chided softly as she yanked it up even higher and adjusted it so that it stayed in that position. “Turn around I need to make sure the other once matches. She then yanked the other strap up tightly and set it into place. The pants pulled and tugged at his big bottom so badly. Every miniscule movement caused it to ache.

“I think it’s too tight…”

“Nonsense! I won’t hear another word on the matter, now off to your room with you. You will stay up there until I say you can come out. You shall spend the time alone reflecting on what you had done and your punishment. With any luck, today will be the last time you will ever tread mud into this house again, is that clear?”

Francis hung his head. “Yes Nanny.”

“Good, now go. I’ll call you for dinner in a few hours.”


End file.
